


A Moment in Time

by AThousandWishes



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Mentioned Jason Todd, Post One Year Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:02:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25481335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AThousandWishes/pseuds/AThousandWishes
Summary: Just a little fluff written for a "family time" challenge way back in 2008 after One Year Later.  Lots of things mentioned...nothing really "fixed."
Kudos: 4





	A Moment in Time

  
A Moment in Time  
  
1/1  
  
  
  
Alfred's day started at 6 a.m. sharp. After dressing in his usual daily  
attire, he made his way out the Manor's massive front doors and down the  
long winding driveway. At the security gate, he retrieved the morning's  
paper and then returned to the enormous house. Straight away, he  
entered the kitchen where he placed the newspaper onto the breakfast  
table. Shrugging out of his jacket, Alfred opened the pantry door and  
placed it on a hook before donning an apron over his clean white shirt.  
  
  
  
From there, he went about the business of preparing breakfast for the  
three younger men resting on the second floor of the Manor. After a  
year long absence, Bruce, Dick, and Tim had returned to Gotham only  
three days ago. It was good to have his boys back home. Bruce seemed  
rested, younger, and more relaxed than he had in years. Dick's physical  
injuries were mostly healed, but his self-confidence had suffered a  
terrible blow. Despite all of his personal misgivings, the young man  
had not lost his zest for life—he just needed to find his direction  
again. Tim had changed the most in the last year. Physically, he had  
grown in stature and muscle tone. Yet the emotional torment the  
teenager had faced over a year ago reflected in his eyes with a fire of  
determination. Regrettably, Alfred recalled that same burning fortitude  
from his first charge's tumultuous teenage years.  
  
  
  
Even though tragedy and crisis had forged new challenges and deeper  
scars, Alfred still treasured each moment spent together with the lads  
in the gloomy manor. However, he also knew these precious days were  
drawing to a close. Dick had made plans to move back to New York, while  
Bruce conspired with Tim about the Dark Knight and his squire's return  
to the Gotham night.  
  
  
  
Without preamble, the kitchen door swung open and Dick entered the room.  
He was casually dressed for the day in his grey Gotham Knights t-shirt  
and dark jeans.  
  
  
  
"Morning, Alfred." Sniffing the air, the young man smiled, "Smells  
good."  
  
  
  
"Good morning, Master Dick. I trust you slept well."  
  
  
  
"Absolutely! I was stuffed like a tick after that dinner you fed  
us…I couldn't do anything but sleep. I'm going to be too heavy to  
hold myself up when I start swinging from the rooftops again."  
  
  
  
Setting a plate piled with eggs, bacon and toast down on the table in  
front of his second charge, Alfred replied, "Perhaps you might consider  
not swinging from rooftops at all, sir."  
  
  
  
Shaking his head, Dick answered, "You know that's not going to happen."  
  
  
  
"One must always try, my boy." Alfred patted the other man's shoulder  
before returning to the stove.  
  
  
  
Within minutes, the kitchen door swung open yet again. This time Tim,  
still in boxers and a dingy torn undershirt, stumbled over and plopped  
down into a chair. Alfred frowned at the display, but refrained from  
commenting.  
  
  
  
"Good morning, Master Timothy," the older man greeted, as he placed a  
laden plate down in front of the teenager.  
  
  
  
Tim managed a slight smile before saying, "Good morning." Looking  
toward Dick, he said, "Where're you going?"  
  
  
  
"Out."  
  
  
  
"Out where?"  
  
  
  
"Out there."  
  
  
  
Tim frowned. "Bruce is right. You are annoying."  
  
  
  
Dick chuckled. "It's a talent." After a slight pause, his tone and  
face turning serious, he proclaimed, "I need to go and I don't want  
to…and I know that if I don't just get up and go…well, I'll end  
up staying here forever."  
  
  
  
Swallowing some orange juice, the teenager glanced over at the man who  
was now his adopted brother. "Who says you have to go?"  
  
  
  
"I do." Dick's tone held a note of finality. He stood up and placed  
his plate next to the sink. Turning slowly, he promised, "I'll visit  
Gotham often. New York is not that far away."  
  
  
  
"No, you won't," Tim answered with a hard glint in his eyes. "You said  
the same thing when you moved to the `Haven. But the only time you  
showed up was when some big crisis was happening or when you were mad at  
Bruce. It'll be the same now…maybe even worse. You're leaving just  
like…" The boy closed his mouth with a snap, stood up and left the  
room.  
  
  
  
"Tim, wait!" Dick called to the retreating form. He moved to follow  
when he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
  
  
"Let him go," Alfred said quietly. "The lad needs time to adjust. He  
feels as though this family is all he has left."  
  
  
  
"Alfred, I've got to go find my own way. I can't just stick around here  
forever…"  
  
  
  
Holding up a hand, the old gentleman cut the younger man off. "Quite  
so, however, that does not make the task easier or more bearable to  
those you will be leaving behind." Smiling, he added, "Master Timothy  
will be fine. He will eventually make new friends and a new life for  
himself here in the Manor…given time."  
  
  
  
************  
  
  
  
Dressed in a handsome business suit, Bruce stepped out of his bedroom  
and briskly walked down the hallway. At the top of the staircase, he  
had barely taken one step down when Tim came storming upstairs past him.  
  
  
  
"Good morning, Tim. Where are you heading so fast?"  
  
  
  
Without even glancing back, the boy muttered, "Apparently nowhere."  
Then he disappeared behind his slamming bedroom door.  
  
  
  
Bruce sighed, "Teenagers." It was always the same. Indifference,  
sensitivity, and anger all competing for a moment of stage time. The  
only joy in a teenage boy's life seemed to be the mention or attention  
of the fairer sex. Entering the kitchen, he noticed that Alfred had  
just finished lecturing Dick about something. The younger man had guilt  
written all over his face.  
  
  
  
"Good morning," Bruce cheerfully declared, happy for not being the one  
to apparently have done something stupid. "What's the matter with Tim?"  
  
  
  
Dick's face reddened even more as he shrugged. "I…told him I'm  
going to New York today."  
  
  
  
"Oh." Bruce frowned, as he slid the morning paper toward him. After a  
glance at the date, he allowed his features to relax. A genuine smile  
graced his face and he casually stated, "Well, I suppose you will just  
have to go upstairs and tell him you were mistaken."  
  
  
  
For a moment, Dick just stared blankly at his adopted father. Then his  
temper blew. "Who do you think you are? You don't bark orders at me!  
I'm my own man now, Bruce. What makes you think you can just tell me  
what to do? What reason are you going to give me?"  
  
  
  
Holding up the paper and tapping the date, the older man grinned and  
stated, "It's August 8, 2008. That's the reason you are going to stay."  
  
  
  
"I'm confused." Dick looked to Alfred. "What does that have to do with  
the price of wheat in China?"  
  
  
  
The old gentleman's eyes lit up with sudden comprehension. "Shall I  
fetch a shovel, sir?"  
  
  
  
"Shovel?" Confusion knitting his brow, Dick questioned, "Did I miss  
something?"  
  
  
  
Ignoring the younger man, Bruce spoke to Alfred. "Actually, the boys  
and I will need to go by the bank first."  
  
  
  
"Ah yes," Alfred agreed. "Very good, sir."  
  
  
  
"Well then," Bruce started, picking up his coffee mug. "I guess that  
settles it. We should get a move on…"  
  
  
  
"Waitaminute!" Dick held up his hand and demanded, "Settles what? You  
two are making no sense whatsoever. And stop smiling like that, Bruce.  
It's down right scary!"  
  
  
  
Before Bruce could defend himself, Alfred cleared his throat. "Ahem."  
He waited patiently for both mens' attention. "I shall pack a light  
picnic lunch to be enjoyed in the gazebo at exactly 12:30, sirs. In  
other words, I believe you should make haste and hurry back."  
  
  
  
"I'll go get Tim. You go get…whatever it is you're driving today,"  
Dick all but shouted as he dashed to the kitchen door.  
  
  
  
Bruce quickly patted Alfred's shoulder. "Thanks, old friend! Be back  
in a bit!"  
  
  
  
Then Alfred found himself alone in the kitchen, surrounded by half eaten  
breakfast plates and a very real warmth in his heart.  
  
  
  
***********  
  
  
  
"So where are we going?" Tim called from the backseat.  
  
  
  
Driving the green hummer through Bristol, Bruce casually answered, "The  
bank."  
  
  
  
Two minutes and thirty-four seconds passed as Tim flipped nonchalantly  
through a comic book, while Dick fiddled with the radio from his front  
passenger seat. However, the tension was building to a stifling degree.  
  
  
  
"Are you two going to talk about this?" Bruce finally questioned.  
  
  
  
Huffing and tossing aside his comic book, Tim muttered, "There's nothing  
to talk about…is there?"  
  
  
  
"Tim," Dick started. "I need to do this. I need to go and work some  
things out for myself."  
  
  
  
"What have you been doing this whole past year?!? We all went to `go  
work some things out!' You're just running away! You're leaving! And  
you know what?" Tim's voice trembled slightly, "I just don't care  
anymore."  
  
  
  
For a long time, nobody said anything. Being the oldest of the group,  
Bruce decided it was probably his responsibility to calm the mood.  
"Where's Alfred when you need him?" he mumbled.  
  
  
  
Dick raised an eyebrow in his father's direction. "What's that?"  
  
  
  
Sighing, the older man admitted, "Look, I'm not good at this…stuff.  
It's no secret. I haven't got the foggest clue what to say to help  
either one of you." When all he received were blank stares, Bruce  
groaned a little. "You guys are going to have to meet me at least half  
way…and it would really help if you could stretch it to  
three-quarters."  
  
  
  
Rubbing his forehead, Dick suggested, "It might be a good thing to tell  
us exactly what your plans are for the day. We could change the subject  
and pretend nothing is wrong. That's always worked before."  
  
  
  
Nodding his head in thought, Bruce considered how familiar and easy that  
route would be…but what would Alfred say? "Tim, what do you think?  
I'm really open for advice."  
  
  
  
"Pretending is fine with me." The teenager never moved his gaze from  
the tinted window pane and distant skyline of the city.  
  
  
  
Oblivious to the unresolved problem, Bruce grinned with self indulgence.  
He had single-handedly solved a "family" problem…without Alfred!  
"How about a snow cone?"  
  
  
  
As the hummer veered off the road toward a quaint stand, Dick and Tim  
shared quizzical glances and mouthed the words "snow cone?"  
  
  
  
*************  
  
  
  
Twenty minutes later, Bruce parked the hummer outside of Gotham National  
Bank. He reached into the middle console and pulled out a small key.  
"Come on," he ordered.  
  
  
  
Dick watched the older man get out of the vehicle, before turning to  
Tim. "I don't know about you, but this is freaking me out."  
  
  
  
"He's been into `family time' recently, Dick. You know that. I mean,  
all we heard about this past year was how we were getting back to the  
basics and that meant we had to `open up' and all that crap." Tim  
slipped out and shut the door.  
  
  
  
Following his younger brother, Dick shrugged. "I know he's been trying  
harder lately…but snow cones? Do you realize that goes directly  
against Alfred rules? Eating in any car is strictly prohibited. And he  
willingly gave us both sugar! Now we're at a bank? Come on, something  
is definitely not right."  
  
  
  
Of course, Bruce was immediately recognized and the bank manager  
practically ran out of her office to greet the threesome. Bruce simply  
handed the lady the small key and asked to see his safety deposit box.  
Within minutes, the family group was sitting at a table with the metal  
box before them.  
  
  
  
Bruce took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I didn't realize this  
would be hard," he said softly.  
  
  
  
"We might could help if you would let us in on the secret," Dick  
encouraged, concern filling his eyes.  
  
  
  
Reaching into the box, Bruce pulled out a rolled up paper with a rubber  
band wrapped around the middle. Handing it over to Tim, he said, "It  
was to be the honor of the youngest."  
  
  
  
"Great. I'm the baby. Thanks for the reminder." Tim took the rolled  
paper and asked, "So do I open it or what?"  
  
  
  
"If you want to know where to find the treasure, then yes, open it."  
Bruce smirked at his boys' expressions.  
  
  
  
"Treasure?" Dick asked. "You've got a treasure map?"  
  
  
  
Nodding his head, Bruce admitted, "It's a very special treasure map. We  
hid a time capsule at the manor when I was five. I drew the map. We  
decided to dig it up on 08-08-08. That would be today. We made up some  
rules. One of which was that the youngest would be in charge of the  
map." Smiling at Tim, Bruce said, "That's you. Being the youngest is  
not a curse…and the youngest always has a special place in the  
family."  
  
  
  
"What about the oldest?" Dick pouted.  
  
  
  
"The oldest is special, too," Bruce stated.  
  
  
  
Tim snorted. "Yeah, as the doofus."  
  
  
  
"Dork!"  
  
  
  
"Dimrod!"  
  
  
  
"Squirt!"  
  
  
  
"Why don't you open the map?" Bruce interrupted. "Alfred will be  
waiting on us."  
  
  
  
Tim carefully pulled the rubber band off of the paper and unrolled it.  
After studying it for several seconds, he looked up with a smile. "I  
can't believe you drew this! It's really the whole estate."  
  
  
  
"I worked for hours…at least, I think I did." Glancing over at his  
oldest, he noticed that Dick was staring at him with a strange  
expression. "What?"  
  
  
  
"This is not the only thing in the box. You're willing to share this  
with us, but not everything."  
  
  
  
Bruce met Dick's eyes with his own unreadable ones. Finally, he sighed  
and pulled out a large envelope from the metal box. "Here. You can  
look at it…I'll wait outside." He got up to leave.  
  
  
  
"Bruce, if this is private…I don't want to pry…" Dick started.  
  
  
  
"No, it's okay. I know what's inside…at least I was told. I just  
don't want to see it." Then Bruce was gone, leaving his sons to stare  
at the envelope on the table.  
  
  
  
Tim stood up and leaned over Dick's shoulder, as the young man slowly  
opened the packet. Inside, they found a copy of the police report,  
death certificates for the Waynes, the living will written out in Thomas  
Wayne's own hand, and negatives of pictures taken that fateful night.  
  
  
  
"Man, look at all this…it's everything…" Tim ran a hand through  
his hair. "No wonder he didn't want to open this box."  
  
  
  
"I shouldn't have asked." Dick placed the documents back into the  
envelope. "We shouldn't have seen this."  
  
  
  
"He opened up, Dick. He was willing to share. That's a major step."  
  
  
  
Looking at the teenager, Dick nodded his head. "I get the feeling that  
he's trying to lead by example, Tim. We're the ones that are hiding  
behind masks now. We've been steadily closing ourselves off to those  
we're closest to and not sharing, while Bruce has spent the entire past  
year doing the opposite. We should try to reach back out to him…to  
each other."  
  
  
  
Tim turned away, back stiff and fists clenched at his sides. "I'm too  
raw right now. The pain's too fresh, Dick. I can't deal with all of  
this. I'm tired of losing. I'm tired of caring. I'm just plain tired.  
You and Bruce may be ready to deal with it all…but I'm not."  
  
  
  
Placing his hands on his younger brother's shoulders, Dick said, "I  
know, Tim. I've been there. Bruce has, too. It's okay to be hurt.  
It's okay to be angry. Just be honest with us. That's all we can ask."  
  
  
  
Half a minute passed before Tim grabbed up the treasure map. "Let's  
just drop it, okay? I really don't feel like having an emotional  
break-down in a bank vault."  
  
  
  
Dick sighed as he watched the teenager stalk out into the hallway.  
  
  
  
********  
  
  
  
Alfred had the picnic basket ready and waiting as soon as the green  
hummer entered the drive. As the troupe gathered on the steps of Wayne  
Manor, Bruce clapped his hands together and looked expectantly at Dick  
and Tim.  
  
  
  
"What?" Dick asked. "Why are you staring at us? This is your  
treasure."  
  
  
  
"No, it's a family time capsule, and I'm waiting on the youngest to look  
at the map and tell us where to go." Bruce nudged Tim's arm ever so  
slightly.  
  
  
  
"Oh." Then curiously glancing up at his father, Tim muttered, "Don't  
you remember where you buried the treasure?"  
  
  
  
"Of course, but we have to follow the map," Bruce instructed.  
  
  
  
Unrolling the paper, Tim held it out for all to see.  
  
  
  
"It's under the old oak tree near the back patio." Tim pointed to the X  
that marked the spot.  
  
  
  
"Well, the quickest way is through the manor," Dick said, starting  
toward the front door.  
  
  
  
"No!" Bruce's voice boomed, bringing all eyes to him. In a much calmer  
tone, he said, "We follow the map."  
  
  
  
Tim groaned. "Bruce, the map has us going all over the grounds! We  
know where the treasure is buried, let's just go dig it up."  
  
  
  
"Master Timothy," Alfred said in a commanding voice. "I must insist we  
abide by the map's instructions. When we reach the gazebo, we shall  
rest and enjoy our picnic. Afterwards, we shall resume our search and  
obtain the treasure that awaits us."  
  
  
  
Smiling, Bruce patted Alfred on the back. "I'm glad I have you here  
with me today, old friend."  
  
  
  
"I would not have missed out on this occasion for any reason, Master  
Bruce," Alfred assured. "It is quite an honor."  
  
  
  
"Well, where do we start, squirt?" Dick asked, glancing down at the map  
in Tim's hands.  
  
  
  
"We have to swing way out and then head down toward the pool," Tim said,  
waving his hand in the general direction they should walk.  
  
  
  
It took a good five minutes to cover the distance that Bruce deemed  
necessary before doubling back to the pool and walking around it. The  
map then took them over to the gazebo, where Alfred proceeded to hand  
out sandwiches and cold drinks.  
  
  
  
The conversation stayed light, as did the mood. When they had finished  
their meal, the group left for the wooded area in the far corner of the  
property.  
  
  
  
"You know, I've never liked it back here," Dick muttered, cautiously  
eyeing the shadows cast by the dense trees. "It creeps me out."  
  
  
  
"We don't have to go very far in. The map only shows three trees," Tim  
informed, beginning to feel rather important with his job.  
  
  
  
"True," Bruce agreed. "But the third tree in the picture was my old  
tree house. We have to climb up to it and I'm not sure the ladder is  
still there."  
  
  
  
Shaking his head, Alfred spoke frankly, "I have not been this far back  
in years, sir. But one would think that the ladder should be in great  
disrepair or worse after all this time."  
  
  
  
The old gentleman was right. Remnants of the wooden ladder and tree  
house were scattered on the ground underneath the old tree.  
  
  
  
Bruce glared dejectedly up at the branches. He had hoped to revisit one  
of his favorite childhood hangouts. However, he knew the odds were  
against him from the start. His childhood had ended abruptly and long  
ago. As a result, he had abandoned all thoughts of this special place.  
  
  
  
Watching his father with great concern, Dick placed a hand on Bruce's  
shoulder. "We can still climb up to the branch. After all, it's what  
the map shows. You wanna scale it first, or should a younger fellow go  
up ahead to help the older folks?"  
  
  
  
"I don't think so, monkey boy," Bruce growled. "It's my tree, so I'm  
going first. And for the record, I'm not old."  
  
  
  
Laughing, Dick spread his hands out. "Okay, have it your way, but I  
think tossing Tim, the younger, up in the tree sounds much more fun."  
  
  
  
"Hey!" Tim frowned at his brother. "I can get up there on my own.  
Nobody's tossing me anywhere!"  
  
  
  
"Just a suggestion," Dick said with a shrug.  
  
  
  
After ten minutes of struggling up onto the lowest branch, the three  
younger men looked down at Alfred.  
  
  
  
"Okay, your turn," Tim called to the dignified man.  
  
  
  
"I believe I shall skip this part," Alfred sniffed, unnerved by the  
smirks cast his way.  
  
  
  
"But Alfred, the map has to be abided by or else," Dick reminded.  
  
  
  
Bruce gave his patented lopsided grin. "You said it yourself. Come on.  
We'll help you up."  
  
  
  
"Really, sir," Alfred protested. "If it's all the same to you, I would  
rather wait for your prompt return to the ground and continue searching  
elsewhere."  
  
  
  
"Alfred," Bruce pleaded in an uncharacteristic whine. "You've got to do  
this to reach the treasure."  
  
  
  
Sighing, he held up his hand for the others to grip. "Very well."  
  
  
  
As soon as everyone was up and over the branch, the four men continued  
their search on the ground, heading to the rocky cliffs above the bay.  
  
  
  
Climbing the rocks, Tim pointed to the large oak tree at the back of the  
manor. "That's our destination! We've almost made it!"  
  
  
  
"So who has the shovel?" Dick asked.  
  
  
  
"Um…well, I didn't pick one up." Bruce looked expectantly toward  
Alfred.  
  
  
  
"I forgot," the older man simply stated.  
  
  
  
"What?" Bruce, Dick, and Tim said in unison, staring dumbfounded at  
Alfred.  
  
  
  
"It happens…on occasion. I shall go fetch one." Alfred turned to  
go.  
  
  
  
"Wait!" Bruce grabbed Dick by the arm. "You should go after the  
shovel."  
  
  
  
Dick huffed, "Why? You and Tim are both capable of going to the tool  
shed. It's not like it's that far away."  
  
  
  
"But that's your job," Bruce explained. "The next to youngest is in  
charge of the shovel."  
  
  
  
Mouth gaping open, Dick glared at his father. "You're making this up as  
we go along!"  
  
  
  
"Exactly!" With a wide grin, Tim patted his brother on the back as he  
waved the map in front of them. "But if I had to play along, so do  
you!"  
  
  
  
Grumbling, Dick began to stalk off toward the shed.  
  
  
  
"Master Bruce, would it not stand to reason that one should have to  
follow the exact path of the map coming and going?"  
  
  
  
Dick scowled at Alfred. "Did you really have to mention that?"  
  
  
  
An evil smirk spread across Bruce's face. "I believe you're right,  
Alfred." Turning to his sons, Bruce said, "Guess Tim will need to go  
with you, since he has the map and you may get lost without it."  
  
  
  
"What?" Tim practically shouted.  
  
  
  
"Lost?" Dick swooped his arm around the grounds. "You and Alfred are  
standing on the big rocks by the cliff. What makes you think I'm going  
to get lost?"  
  
  
  
"The longer you two stand here arguing with Alfred, the longer it's  
going to take to dig up the treasure," Bruce stated, as he sat down on a  
large boulder.  
  
  
  
"Come on, Dick. Let's just go get the shovel," Tim mumbled, pulling his  
older brother along.  
  
  
  
As they walked off, Bruce called out, "Don't forget to climb back over  
the tree…both ways!"  
  
  
  
"Don't forget to climb back over the tree both ways," Dick mocked under  
his breath. "I can't believe I'm doing this."  
  
  
  
"I thought you were all into Bruce opening up." Tim glanced sideways at  
Dick. "And I keep wondering why you expect me to when you won't."  
  
  
  
"What do you mean? I'm open as a book!" Dick stopped walking, when he  
reached the shade of Bruce's tree.  
  
  
  
Tim grunted as he began to climb up to the appropriate branch.  
"Whatever."  
  
  
  
"No, seriously," Dick demanded. "What do you want to know? I'll tell  
you."  
  
  
  
Sitting in the tree, Tim glared down at his brother. He ticked off the  
list with his fingers. "What do you want to start with? Haley's,  
Blockbuster, Tarantula, the Mob, Barbara, Bludhaven, or your near-death  
experience?"  
  
  
  
Dick turned his head away and clenched his fists. "Tim…"  
  
  
  
"See? You're asking me to do something you aren't even willing to do."  
The teenager looked up into the afternoon sky. "I just don't see the  
point of all this any more."  
  
  
  
"Tim? There is a point," Dick said, fearing the boy's emotional state.  
  
  
  
"Then what is it? We live. We lose. We die." Flipping down from his  
perch, Tim threw his hands up. "I'm tired of trying to figure it all  
out. I'm tired of being expected to just get over it." He began to  
walk away.  
  
  
  
"Hold on!" Dick called, as he ran after him.  
  
  
  
"You didn't climb over the branch," Tim muttered. "You are officially  
off the beaten path."  
  
  
  
"Sometimes you need to take the shortcut," Dick quipped. "Look, would  
you slow down?" He reached out and touched Tim's shoulder. When his  
brother paused to cautiously eye him, Dick said, "Tim, I know it's hard  
right now. I'll admit, I'm still hurting from it all. But there's a  
lot of good in life, too."  
  
  
  
Tim searched Dick's face. "I know that. I just feel like for every  
good thing that happens to me, five bad things follow on its heels. I  
can never enjoy the moment for the fear of what's going to happen next."  
  
  
  
"I don't have all the answers," Dick admitted. "And as much as I want  
them to…neither do Bruce and Alfred. But I do know that no matter  
what happens in the future, my family and friends are going to be there  
for me."  
  
  
  
"But what if you keep losing them, one at a time? Then who's left? I  
can't take any more, Dick. I can't lose anyone else. If I do, I'm  
afraid of who I will become…I'm afraid of what I might do." Tim  
started to walk toward the shed again. "So if you're going, then go.  
But don't feed me empty promises and say you'll be there if you're not."  
  
  
  
Dick raced to catch up and then matched Tim's pace. "I'm not feeding  
you empty promises, bro. It's different for me this time around. As  
you pointed out, I've been through a rough patch myself. I need all of  
you to help ground me. I meant what I said this morning. New York is  
not that far. I'll be home more than before." Dick chuckled, "You'll  
probably be sick of me."  
  
  
  
"Well, you can be annoying."  
  
  
  
"Like I said, it's one of my talents."  
  
  
  
*********  
  
  
  
"Do you think we should have done that?" Bruce watched from his distant  
vantage point.  
  
  
  
Alfred's gaze followed that of his oldest charge. Their boys seemed to  
be having another heated discussion. He observed Tim's hasty retreat up  
the tree and Dick's sudden rigid stance. As Tim descended from the  
branch, Alfred noted that Dick ran after the boy before disappearing  
from his view. "Of course, Master Bruce. The lads have a few issues to  
iron out before the sun sets this evening."  
  
  
  
Nodding his head, Bruce said, "They're both hurting."  
  
  
  
"And what about you, my dear boy?"  
  
  
  
Bruce blinked at Alfred's reference. "It's been a long time since  
you've called me that."  
  
  
  
"It's been a long time since I have had the pleasure of my boy's  
company. I daresay, his darker personality had almost replaced all of  
the fine young gentleman I had raised." Placing a tender hand on  
Bruce's shoulder, Alfred smiled, "I am very pleased to have you home  
again, sir."  
  
  
  
"It's good to be home," Bruce admitted. "I needed to get away for a  
while, but I did get homesick…especially for you."  
  
  
  
"Oh posh!" Alfred slightly backhanded the younger man's upper arm. "I  
made several visits to you and the boys, as well as your many visits to  
London as I holidayed there."  
  
  
  
Shrugging, Bruce said, "It wasn't quite the same." Thinking back over  
the past year, he sighed before saying, "It's never easy, is it, Alfred?  
We just couldn't catch a break from it all. And in the middle of it,  
where did the years go? Dick's grown and Tim's going to be in just a  
few years…and I'm turning into old bachelor."  
  
  
  
"Oh for the love," Alfred muttered dramatically, pleading toward the  
Heavens. "He has returned as a philosopher going through a mid-life  
crisis. What have I done to deserve such a fate?"  
  
  
  
Snorting, Bruce grinned at the older man. "You're too funny, Alfred."  
  
  
  
"As I have been told on occasion," Alfred quipped, sitting down on a  
rock beside Bruce. Several minutes passed in silence before he asked,  
"Will you be informing Master Jason of your return, sir?"  
  
  
  
Bruce's brow wrinkled in thought. "Should I?"  
  
  
  
"He is your son, as well."  
  
  
  
"He's so angry with me…hurt." Shaking his head, Bruce whispered,  
"How can I blame him?"  
  
  
  
"You acted in the best interest of both sons, Master Bruce."  
  
  
  
"I left him on the roof, bleeding from a gaping wound I caused! How was  
that in his best interest?"  
  
  
  
Alfred gazed at the younger man. "From my understanding, he did not  
give you a choice."  
  
  
  
"He did. I chose Joker's life and Dick's safety." Bruce held up a hand  
to cut Alfred's remark off. "It's how Jason will view it. Besides,  
it's my fault that he's turned out this way. I just didn't connect all  
the clues."  
  
  
  
"Whatever are you talking about, sir?"  
  
  
  
Bruce sighed. "Talia came to me, Alfred. She tried to lure me to her  
father's stronghold. At the time, I didn't pay any attention. I  
thought she was just trying to draw me into another trap. But she was  
really giving me the opportunity to find Jason and help him." He stood  
up and stared out beyond the rocky cliff to the bay below. "I didn't  
trust her."  
  
  
  
"How could you?" Alfred got to his feet and placed a hand on Bruce's  
back. "We both have not forgotten what happened the last time Talia  
lured you to her father's house."  
  
  
  
Nodding his head, Bruce muttered, "She drugged me."  
  
  
  
"And forced herself upon you." Alfred tilted his head to look up at his  
charge and spoke softly. "Have you shared that with Master Dick?  
Perhaps it will comfort the lad to know he is not alone. Men…strong  
men can be forced to act against their will."  
  
  
  
Bruce ducked his head. "I…I don't know…if I'm ready for that,  
Alfred."  
  
  
  
"One step at a time, Master Bruce." The old gentleman smiled. "I am  
proud of the steps you have already taken."  
  
  
  
Bruce couldn't help the smile that grew across his face.  
  
  
  
********  
  
  
  
Returning with the shovel, Dick and Tim noticed Bruce's even lighter  
mood and Alfred's relaxed manner.  
  
  
  
"What have you two been up to?" Dick asked suspiciously.  
  
  
  
"Just talking," Bruce answered, as he began to move toward the old tree  
across the yard. "Come on, slowpokes."  
  
  
  
Tim shrugged and jogged after his father, leaving Dick to gape at them.  
Casting a wary eye toward Alfred, the young man questioned, "You talked?  
About what?"  
  
  
  
"It is not proper etiquette to pry, Master Dick," Alfred clipped.  
"However, if one must know, Master Bruce and I discussed the state of  
affairs in this family." Both men fell in step together, following the  
path to the tree. "And what of Master Timothy and yourself?"  
  
  
  
"The same," Dick answered. "It hasn't been easy lately. But I think  
we're going to make it."  
  
  
  
"One can only hope and pray, lad," Alfred said, with an enigmatic grin.  
  
  
  
As the four of them reached the tree, they looked around at the  
indicated spot. Alfred was the first to speak. "If memory serves  
correctly, the second oldest was in charge of the digging, sir."  
  
  
  
"Couldn't this be one of those occasions in which you forgot?" Bruce  
questioned. Smirking, Dick held out the shovel. Chagrinned, Bruce took  
it and began to dig.  
  
  
  
After ten minutes of laboring, Bruce wiped the sweat from his brow.  
"How deep did we bury this thing?"  
  
  
  
"It was quite shallow, sir," Alfred confessed.  
  
  
  
"Maybe we're digging in the wrong place?" Dick suggested. Leaning over,  
he studied the map in Tim's hands. "You know, Bruce, you were just a  
child when you drew it. I bet it's not all that accurate."  
  
  
  
"Not accurate! I'll have you know that I took great care in the details  
of that map…child or not!" Bruce slammed the shovel back down into  
the ground and brought up another pile of dirt, ceremoniously dumping it  
onto Dick's shoes.  
  
  
  
"Hey!" Dick jumped back, glowering at his father.  
  
  
  
"Master Bruce! You ought to be ashamed of yourself," Alfred  
reprimanded. Then in a gentler tone, he said, "Perhaps Master Dick has  
a point…after all, it was quite some time ago. I daresay I am hard  
pressed to remember the exact location myself."  
  
  
  
"Yeah, and considering you colored the manor with bright red doors and  
only one chimney, not to mention the pink gazebo…well, you were only  
five, Bruce," Tim reasoned.  
  
  
  
"Actually…" Bruce started. "The gazebo…well, that part is  
accurate."  
  
  
  
"You mean it wasn't white? The gazebo was pink?" Dick laughed. "Whose  
decorating sense was that?"  
  
  
  
Tim joined his brother's laughter, until both younger men noticed their  
elders were not so amused. Bruce stared stonily at his sons for a  
moment, while Alfred merely walked a short distance away.  
  
  
  
Without comment, Bruce resumed digging. After several shovels of dirt,  
he mumbled, "It was my favorite color."  
  
  
  
"What did you say?" Tim asked, blinking in disbelief.  
  
  
  
"Pink. I liked the color pink," Bruce grunted, as he plunged the shovel  
downward once more.  
  
  
  
Dick desperately tried to hold in his laughter. Biting his bottom lip,  
he closed his eyes concentrating on anything but this newest revelation.  
Twelve seconds later, he lost it. Doubling over, the young man  
practically cackled. "Pink?"  
  
  
  
Tim fought his own growing smile. "Really? Your favorite color was  
pink?" Unable to stop himself, he joined his older brother.  
  
  
  
Rejoining the group, Alfred asked, "Do you remember the day your father  
took you to the hardware store for the paint, sir?"  
  
  
  
Tearing his burning eyes away from his sons, Bruce silently nodded at  
Alfred.  
  
  
  
"You returned so eager to paint the gazebo," Alfred continued. "Poor  
Thomas! He was horrified! He told Martha to never buy another box of  
crayons with pink in the box…and if she did it was to be thrown out  
immediately."  
  
  
  
Bruce grinned at the memory. "I can still hear him saying, `Son, don't  
you want a more manly color? What about blue or green?' He finally  
gave in though. I think I threatened to cry."  
  
  
  
Dick and Tim had calmed down enough to hear the tale and stood looking  
at their father. "You know what this means, Bruce?" the oldest began.  
"You're gonna start getting something pink every Christmas and  
birthday!"  
  
  
  
"Father's Day, too!" Tim chimed in.  
  
  
  
Sighing, Bruce brought the shovel down and hit something hard. Blinking  
with surprise, he declared, "Well, it seems my map was accurate! Pink  
gazebo and all!"  
  
  
  
Within minutes, the group sat on the ground in a circle around a sealed  
metal box. "Your job now, Alfred," Bruce said, sliding the box to the  
gentleman. "It's the job of the oldest to open it."  
  
  
  
Alfred complied. First, he pulled out a newspaper, dated the day the  
capsule was buried. They passed it around and commented on the  
different stories and events. Next out was one of Thomas Wayne's  
stethoscopes, followed by a brochure for the newly opened Park Row  
Clinic.  
  
  
  
Bruce flipped through the brochure. "I remember going to the ribbon  
cutting. Leslie was there. It's the first time I can recall meeting  
her." Eyeing the older man beside him, he asked, "Have you heard from  
her lately, Alfred?"  
  
  
  
Alfred's eyes saddened. "I have not received a letter in return for  
these past sixteen months."  
  
  
  
"I'm sorry," Bruce said, genuine empathy lacing his words. It suddenly  
occurred to him that Alfred had not had an easy time of it either.  
Glancing at the faces around him, Bruce knew he had to say  
something…do something. But what?  
  
  
  
"I…" Feeling awkward, he noticed all eyes were now focused on him  
expectantly. "That is…I'm…really happy…to have you  
all…here." When no one said anything or moved, Bruce quickly  
finished, "That's all."  
  
  
  
Dick grinned and clapped his father on the shoulder. "We love you, too.  
And I'm definitely a happy camper."  
  
  
  
"As am I, my boy," Alfred stated, with smile.  
  
  
  
With a fleeting look toward Dick, Tim shrugged, "I'm not going to lie.  
I won't go as far as saying I'm happy." Taking a deep breath, he added,  
"But I am happier now than I was a year ago. So maybe things aren't so  
bad…with the hope of getting better."  
  
  
  
Breaking through the deafening silence that followed, Dick asked, "So  
what else is in the box?"  
  
  
  
Alfred drew out a handful of signed Gotham Knights baseball cards.  
  
  
  
"Awesome!" Tim and Dick both reached for them and began to chatter  
about the best players from long ago.  
  
  
  
While the boys were occupied, Alfred silently handed over the last item  
in the box to Bruce. It was a neatly folded letter. Opening it, Bruce  
noted his mother's neat penmanship.  
  
  
  
Dear Bruce,  
  
I hope this letter finds you well and happy on August 8, 2008.  
Every night as I fall asleep in bed, I pray for you to grow up and  
become a good man, like your father. I pray that you will have his deep  
compassion and drive to help those less fortunate than yourself. But  
what I pray for most is that you find true happiness in this life.  
  
I love you so much! Words can never express the joy I feel  
when I watch you playing, sleeping, or working. You have such a strong,  
brave soul! When you read this letter 33 years from this day, I know in  
my heart that my prayers will have been answered. And even though our  
family may change…you may have brothers or sisters or even children  
of your own…know that love only grows stronger with time. Your  
father and I will always keep you near our hearts. Stay true and sweet,  
my dear one.  
  
  
  
Love always,  
  
  
Mom  
  
  
  
Fighting his emotions, Bruce clenched his jaw. The letter was almost  
too much to bear. But the words were something he had needed to hear.  
His parents had passed down the greatest gift of all…their love.  
  
  
  
"So whose job is it to fill the hole?" Tim asked, standing up and  
stretching.  
  
  
  
"I say it's the second to oldest." Dick smirked, as he gathered up the  
baseball cards.  
  
  
  
"No," Bruce said thoughtfully. "I think it's the youngest. Didn't we  
start with you, Tim?"  
  
  
  
"What?" The teenager held out the map. "I already have a job.  
Besides, you dug the hole," Tim pointed to Bruce. "You should fill it  
back up."  
  
  
  
"Ooooo, the `you made the mess, you clean up the mess' rule. Good one,  
Timbo," Dick said.  
  
  
  
Bruce looked to Alfred for help.  
  
  
  
The old gentleman merely shrugged, "I am afraid that is quite true,  
sir."  
  
  
  
"Traitor," Bruce muttered, as he picked up the shovel again. The  
youngest two moved away, heads together discussing their evening plans.  
  
  
  
Watching Tim and Dick enter the manor, Alfred gave Bruce a firm pat on  
the back. "Your mother's prayers were indeed answered, Master Bruce."  
  
  
  
Bruce stopped shoveling and nodded his head, unable to express his  
thoughts.  
  
  
  
Alfred started toward the manor.  
  
  
  
"Do you think…" Bruce paused, his cheeks blushing slightly.  
  
  
  
"You were saying, sir?"  
  
  
  
"Do you think we could paint the gazebo pink again?"  
  
  
  
Alfred rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh for Heaven's sake!"  
  
  
  
The End


End file.
